An Eligible Bachelor
by Quill of Minerva
Summary: The Daily Prophet doesn’t always report the best about Albus Dumbledore, but they are now running a competition to win a date with him. Strangely, Albus has agreed to it. A young Auror finds herself entered but will romance blossom? ADMM. NEW STORY
1. Chapter 1

**An Eligible Bachelor.**

**Summary: **The Daily Prophet doesn't always report the best about Albus Dumbledore, but they are now running a competition to win a date with him. Strangely, Albus has agreed to it. A young Auror finds herself entered but will romance blossom? ADMM.

**Rating: **Suitable for all.

**A/N:** I haven't written anything ADMM for such a long time (over two years) and I really wanted to get back into the swing of things. So, I had a look at the challenge board to see if anything could stir my muse back into action and I found a challenge from Alexannah called 'Win a Date with Dumbledore.' I just couldn't resist it. I won't list the requirements to the story as I just want to let things flow, but there will be at least five chapters. Many thanks to my beta reader, Ang.

**Chapter One – In the News.**

Minerva McGonagall sat on her window seat, staring out at the approaching grey clouds. It had been raining for the last five days and every time the rain seemed to be stopping, the heavens opened and the downpour began all over again. Minerva sighed as the rain she had been expecting came and a roll of deep thunder in the distance reached her ears. It was nearing half ten in the morning, and though Minerva preferred natural light when in the cottage, she wanted to block out the dismal sight outside for her own mental state. Watching the constant dark skies, the falling rain, and the lightening strike through the sky for long would make anyone depressed. She reached up and pulled the curtains shut before making her way back towards her favourite chair. She sat down, tucking her feet up under her and reached for the third book she had read in as many days. She liked to read and had no complaints about settling down in front of the fire with her grandmother's quilt and a good book that would capture her imagination and transport her away from the doom and gloom she faced daily as an Auror.

Before she could get settled any further, she heard the not so graceful steps of her best friend lumbering down the wooden staircase. Minerva looked over expectantly at the staircase just as Bridget Castlewell appeared. Minerva smiled at the sight of long time friend. Her hair hadn't been brushed yet and looked as wild as the thistles in the garden next door. She still wore her pyjamas, but had thrown on an old knitted jumper over the top.

"Have you read the Prophet this morning?" asked Bridget as she waved the paper.

"No," replied Minerva, with a shake of her head. "Not yet."

She hadn't had a chance to flick through the paper when the owl delivered it earlier because she had been answering some correspondence. Once she had finished her writing, she had looked up to find the paper missing and the smell of burnt toast lingering in its absence. Minerva had assumed that Bridget had taken it back to bed with her after making herself some breakfast.

Minerva had inherited the cottage from a family friend who had been a squib. Marcia McDougal hadn't wanted the service of house elves after her parents died. They had been highly regarded for their work as curse breakers for Gringotts and hadn't treated their daughter any differently when they discovered she had no magical presence at all. Marcia had dismissed the elves who had worked for her parents and she happily did things the muggle way and Minerva had decided when she moved into the cottage she would continue Marcia's way out of respect. Minerva had lost count of the times that Bridget had practically begged her to go out and find a house elf.

Bridget disappeared into the kitchen for a moment and returned carrying the biscuit tin and a glass of water. She sat down in the nearest armchair to Minerva and propped her feet up on the coffee table while she balanced the glass of water precariously on the arm of the chair. Minerva watched as her friend dug around in the biscuit tin for the right biscuit.

"Excuse me," said Minerva.

"Ooh sorry," said Bridget apologetically as she offered the tin to Minerva.

"Your feet," said Minerva, waving the tin away.

Bridget sighed, rolled her eyes, and dropped her feet to the floor before munching on the only chocolate covered biscuit left in the tin. Minerva couldn't help but notice the crumbs dropping from the biscuit and how Bridget dusted them off on to the floor without really thinking. Minerva was about to say something when she noticed Bridget was staring intently at the front page of the wizarding paper, scouring the columns with her finger.

"I've never seen you so interested in the news before," said Minerva, though she hardly regarded the Daily Prophet as newsworthy. It was more like a muggle gossip column.

"It's running a competition to win a date with Dumbledore," said Bridget, pointing at the front page of the paper.

Minerva rolled her eyes and made a disapproving noise before turning her attention back to her book. She had never heard anything so silly, well, certainly not since the paper reported that Grindelwald's followers wore bright pink robes when they went out on their killing sprees.

"Don't scoff like that," said Bridget. "They are."

"I'm sure they are, but," replied Minerva "whether Professor Dumbledore has agreed to such a thing is questionable."

"But it says," began Bridget.

"Would you jump off a building if the Prophet said to?" questioned Minerva.

"Of course I wouldn't," replied Bridget. "However, I would love to win a date with the most eligible bachelor in the wizarding world."

Minerva suddenly found the Daily Prophet shoved under her nose as Bridget tried to prove that Albus Dumbledore, himself, had agreed to such a contest. She looked down at the paper and saw a photo of her former Transfiguration professor standing outside the Prophet's headquarters, pointing at a banner emblazoned with 'A Date With Dumbledore'. He was smiling and waving at the readers with his other hand. Minerva felt her mouth fall open at the sight. Surely he wouldn't be so stupid as to agree to such a thing. Minerva's eager eyes scanned the article and took in the words, trying to find some flaw with the article to prove that Albus Dumbledore would not put himself out like this. To her astonishment, she couldn't find anything that could contradict what she was reading and the photo seemingly looked real.

"See, I told you," gloated Bridget as she took the paper away from her friend.

Bridget had to smile at the astonished look on Minerva's face. It usually took a lot to shock Minerva, but hearing that her old mentor would knowingly offer himself up as a piece of meat had visibly shaken her to her core.

"You have to write, in no less than one hundred words, why you think you should date him," said Bridget as she relished the fact that Minerva had been struck silent. "Personally, I think that is too many words. I could say why I deserve to date him in no less than eight words."

Minerva was shaken from her thoughts by Bridget's incessant twittering.

"Eight words," questioned Minerva as she regarded her friend as though she had grown another head.

"I am young, intelligent, beautiful and very amusing," answered Bridget.

"You would have to find yourself amusing with that hair," replied Minerva.

"Just because you put him on a pedestal while at school," said Bridget as she stood up, " and now he falls off, because he turns out to be a man with wants, needs, and desires, don't take your bad mood out on me."

"I've never put him on a pedestal," replied Minerva exasperatedly. "I just thought better of him."

"Well, I'm sure you can tell him that when you see him," said Bridget as she headed back up the stairs. "I've entered you into the competition."

"What?" cried Minerva as she got up from her chair.

Bridget ignored her and rushed up the stairs, cackling away like a thing possessed, and locked herself in the bathroom to get ready for the day. She was sure once she gave Minerva some time to calm down, the young Auror would see the funny side of things.

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

**An Eligible Bachelor**

**A/N:** Many thanks to Ang, my beta and very good friend. I would like to say a huge thank you to everyone who read and took the time to review the first chapter. I really do appreciate it, and it's nice to know that people still remember my stories and me. I must stop rambling away. Without further ado, here is the next chapter.

**Chapter 2: What the owl brings.**

Albus Dumbledore dipped his quill into the purple inkpot on his desk and unsuccessfully stifled a yawn as he returned to his tiresome correspondence with the Minister of Magic. He had been writing, for what seemed like all morning, and the sound of the nib scratching against the parchment was beginning to go right through him. He was nearing the completion of the letter and was already mentally preparing himself for a small break where he could partake in his mid morning snack, a bag of sherbet lemons and a cup of tea. The sudden arrival of a small but perky looking owl startled him causing his hand jerk which smeared the wet ink of his signature. He sighed inwardly. It would only take a simple blotting charm to rectify the smear, but it would take a few moments and that would mean a few more moments before he could enjoy his much needed sweets.

The unfamiliar owl nudged the neatly bound stack of letters towards Albus while never taking his eyes off him. Albus opened one of the drawers of his desk and rooted around for something to give the dutiful owl as a treat. His hand rested upon the unopened bag of his favourite muggle sweets and the owl made a distinct sound of approval but Albus wasn't prepared to start dishing out sherbet lemons if he had a biscuit or something else in the drawer. He smiled to himself as he found a half eaten piece of fruitcake. Instead of wondering what and how long it had been in the drawer, he was merely happy that he wouldn't have one less sweet in his bag. With a triumphant gleam in his eye, he placed the cake down in front of the owl and waited for the owl to go. To his despair, the owl looked away from the cake and stepped forward gingerly to look into the opened desk drawer. Albus, feeling rather protective over his candies, shut the drawer and reached for the cake again. The owl ruffled its wings and squawked loudly. Knowing that the owl would become more and more agitated if he didn't give in, Albus reluctantly opened the bag of sherbet lemons. The owl gratefully took the sweet that was offered and flew out of window, much happier. Popping one into his own mouth, Albus thought a note to the owl's owner about its manner might be appropriate after the circumstances.

As he reached for the stack of letters, he hoped they weren't from the Ministry again. He had spent enough time that morning answering letters and he had other things to do this particular day. He thoroughly regretted offering his assistance to the Minister at the last New Year's Ministry celebrations. He untied the pink and blue ribbon and opened the first letter of the stack.

_We, here at the Daily Prophet, offer our heartfelt thanks to you for taking part in our competition. We have had thousands of applicants and we have forwarded some of the aforementioned applications to you for you to read, at your leisure. _

_Kindest Regards,_

_Cynthia J. Armstrong._

_P.S. You will find my own application on top of the selected pile._

Albus chuckled softly after reading the letter. He had been expecting to hear from the wizarding paper ever since the competition had been announced. What he hadn't been expecting was to have replies already in hand. He still couldn't believe he had let his younger brother, Aberforth, talk him into something like this. They had been sitting in the Hog Head's enjoying a drink and talking when an owl had paid them a visit. It had been another letter from the Daily Prophet showing concern for Albus' unmarried status and offering to help. Aberforth Dumbledore had found it hysterically funny that his older brother was being offered help with such a delicate part of his life and continued to tease and taunt Albus for the rest of the evening. After a few more firewhiskeys, Albus found himself penning a letter of acceptance to the Prophet. He was still unsure of a few details, but he couldn't deny writing the letter that was now hanging up in Cynthia's office. He knew the competition would be a shambles. He had no real intention to date anyone, and if he did choose to date, he felt he would be perfectly capable of finding his own witch without help from a newspaper. The only thing he truly wanted from this whole fiasco was to ensure his reputation remained intact. It wasn't likely but he still hoped. Reaching for the first letter in the pile, Albus reclined in his chair and set about to reading it.

_Albus,_

_I believe we all have a soul mate out there. Whether we find them or not is up to us. We can sit around, waiting for them to come to us or go out and find them ourselves. I choose the latter. I believe we, if given the chance, could be soul mates. Keep that in mind when you make your decision._

_Regards,_

_Cynthia J. Armstrong._

Cynthia had always been very polite to him during their encounters. She was a pretty witch but she was also a journalist. The only reason for her application was to get the inside scoop. They would have dinner together and the next day everything they spoke of would no doubt be printed in black and white. It was one thing to offer yourself up as a possible target but it was another thing to help ensure that every last detail about your date would be written down for the world to read. He crumpled the letter up and threw it into the bin.

"Primwink," he summoned.

Moments later, a pop was heard and a house-elf bowed before him.

"What Primwink be doing for you, Headmaster Professor?" squeaked the elf.

"My usual tea, Primwink," requested Albus. He had told Primwink on many occasions not to bow before him, but the house elf had been upset by such a request and had beaten himself with a book for ten minutes before Albus had managed to calm him down.

"It Primwink's pleasure to be getting you tea, Headmaster Professor," answered Primwink before disappearing.

Seconds later, Primwink reappeared with a tray. He set the tray down beside Albus and poured the tea from the teapot into the cup and added the milk and sugar.

"Thank you Primwink," said Albus. "That will be all."

"No, thank you Headmaster, Professor," replied Primwink before disappearing again.

Albus reached for the cup and brought it to his lips. The warm liquid filled his mouth and slipped down his throat. Nothing, besides sherbet lemons, could touch the spot that a good cup of tea could. Setting the cup back down in its saucer, Albus turned his attention to the next letter on the pile.

_Albus,_

_I have been in love with you my whole life. We have met several times at social engagements, but you have always been whisked away by someone demanding a dance with you. I am everything you could ever want to find in a lover. Pick me and you will be very happy._

_Much Affection,_

_Anna Marchbanks._

Anna Marchbanks! Her application surprised him somewhat. He had only recently had dinner with her and her husband. David Marchbanks worked at Ministry and was a very pleasant and popular man in his department. Albus crumpled the letter up and threw it into the bin. He was sure that Anna had done this behind her husband's back and even if she had done if with his approval, it was all very strange. Anna was an exceptional woman, if you went for the vain type with an obsession for shoes and handbags.

For the next half an hour, Albus went through the rest of the letters. His bag of sherbet lemons was now empty and the tea in his pot was gone. The last five letters had gone on about how beautiful they were and how they would look good on his arm. He had barely read the first line of them before throwing them away. He was amazed by the lack of modesty he had read in the letters. How could they think anyone would be interested in them if all they cared about was their social status? There had been two letters so far that would warrant another look because they had been witty and there was one more to go. Albus reached forward and opened the final letter.

_Albus,_

_I have seen that we are destined to be together. The tealeaves in my cup have shown me this and they never lie._

_Minerva A. McGonagall._

Albus stared at the name for a moment in disbelief. He knew this name very well. Not because she was married to a friend of his or because he had read it in the paper. He knew the name because she had been a student of his. It couldn't be anyone else. It was not a name which someone else could have like James Smith or Paul Butler. He had known two James Smith's when he had been younger. It wasn't the name that confused him. It was what she had put in her application. In all the time he had taught her, Minerva McGonagall had scoffed that the branch of magic that claimed to see things in tealeaves, the stars, and in visions. She had had no time for it. As soon as she had been able to drop the subject, she did. Surely, she wouldn't have found an understanding for it in the years after leaving Hogwarts. It was impossible. It had to be another Minerva. There was no way his former student would have written such a thing. Or, could she have? He reread the letter and decided that it needed investigating. He, now, had three letters to send back to the Prophet and the next stage of the competition would begin.

To be continued


End file.
